


For these ruins still smolder

by Yoruhime



Series: Fire and ashes [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU from Season 4, Disturbia related, Gen, M/M, Slight spoilers for TSWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoruhime/pseuds/Yoruhime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Highest vantage point of the forest.<br/>The night wind beats at him, chilly and strong, blowing its icy bite right in his face – if he wasn't what he is, he'd probably be knocked aside from the edge of the rocky outcrop.<br/>Peter closes his eyes, taking at deep breath, trying to center himself. And yet...<em>We're lovers. I never left</em>, the voice still murmurs in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For these ruins still smolder

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go, third installement in the Fire and ashes series.  
> As I said, we're moving along the timeline, while still witnessing Disturbia!Derek making his way into this new-reality and passing across Peter's self-centered brand of sociopathy.
> 
> Enjoy!

Derek looks around, and he cannot help a grim smile as he instantly recognizes the surroundings and devises the quickest way to Stiles' house (the kids made sure to point it out earlier). Turns out memories stay true even when you haven't seen the god-damned town in almost two years.

With a sigh, he begins to walk – no teleportation. He was serious when he spoke of keeping aces close. Especially when going to a unknown Alpha, while leaving a very clever, very dangerous man at your back. Lion's den before you and behind. Nice.

Well. Derek supposes the point is debatable – while Alpha, Scott hasn't been anything but cordial, and he did get him out of a very unpleasant situation. But still. It has become a reflex, to be wary of everything and everyone. His Peter has his trust, no questions – not anymore, at least. But anyone else? Enemy until proved otherwise.

And no, dragging him out from a tomb doesn't count.

Letting his nose guide him, trusting his instinct to flare up in warning at anything amiss, Derek loses himself in thoughts of home. Yes, he has compassion for the Peter of this...world, reality, whatever. But his life, and his love, aren't in BC anymore. And even though Peter (his Peter) never again tried too pull Alpha rank on him since they reunited, he has to admit he misses the man's aura.

Having the presence of an Alpha around, especially as powerful as his lover is, makes for a deep imprint, whether you want it or not. And being lovers on the top of it...Derek is certainly not under Peter's orders (he's not under _anyone_ 's orders, period), the loss of the elder man's particular scent and bearing makes for a empty feeling in his chest.

He sighs, and racks a hand through his hair. _Get a grip, Derek_ , he orders himself curtly. Becoming maudlin has never helped anyone getting what they wished. If he wants to go back home, and fuck he does, he'll need to keep a clear mind. Be careful of what he says, gather what intel he can, and stay sharp and on his guard – mind and body alike. 

A little smile tugs at his lips – it's been a long time since he last thought like this. Like a fighter in enemy territory. But old habits die hard, it seems. His wolf has been on high alert since the second he got out of the tomb, feeding him adrenalin at superhuman level, keeping his senses tuned and his muscles tense, and the human part has his wits together.

No matter how relaxed he looks, he is ready to anything. Even his Gift is coiling and uncoiling, stirring like a warm, deadly snake in his chest – and as long as he makes sure he's not taken by surprise, he should be fine. There isn't much he fears nowadays, may it be supernatural creatures or plain humans such as Hunters.

He trusts his instinct and his awareness, and his ability to react at moments' notice. _You'll be fine_ , he repeats to himself, and clenches his teeth at the niggling prick of worry at the back of his head – the part of him murmuring that he could be struck here forever, that maybe he'll never find a way back, never see Peter again...

The part of him that is afraid and alone, hidden far beyond his composure and confidence. The part still rattled by the feeling of being buried alive for what felt like days, the part that made him crack earlier and ask for Peter like a weak child asks for comfort. But weakness will not lead him to anything good – he cannot afford it. Never could.

 _Get your act together, Hale_. This is pathetic. Derek rises his head high, eyes flaring ice blue for a second. He knows better than to listen to this dark part inside of him, this Derek who was half-destroyed by Alexander and never quite healed – for all he is mostly physically fine, Derek has his own scars. Scars of the mind.

If he was with Peter, he'd just curl close, ask to be held until the voice and doubt had faded back deep in his head. But he is alone. And the last time he ended alone...The nausea rises suddenly, and Derek takes a breath, forcing it down. This has nothing to do with it. Alexander had him, utterly, prisoner in a cage with no way of escaping or killing him.

But here? Here, there is no-one Derek couldn't kill if it comes to it. He may be alone, but he isn't helpless – a bunch of kids, supernatural or not, is nothing next to Logan or Alex or the Hunters. He's fine. He can keep himself safe, can hold his own and stay out of this Pack's affairs. He just needs to find a way to go back where he belongs, no more, no less.

The churning feeling recedes in front of Derek's clear, savage logic, and he exhales deeply. Fuck, he'd better keep his cool in front the Pack – he has no time for going off the handle, not in the actual situation. The young wolf rubs a tired hand down his face. Tiredness, and stress and tension all piling on each other - the reaction was a given, or almost.

Guess he should be grateful he didn't woke up screaming his head off at Peter's.

Derek shakes his head with a muttered curse and rises his eyes, concentrating on the path ahead rather than leaving his thoughts to wander. It was a mistake in the first place. Right now, he only has one objective: get to Stiles. He'll have to answer questions, probably, about why he left Peter after insisting so much to be with him, but no matter.

He is not keen on staying out at night, and in the open, in unknown territory. Precarious shelter is better than no shelter at all. Well. He hopes, even though his wariness is so high it feels like it's clinging to his very bones. _Easy, Derek. Easy_. Normally, it's Peter who makes sure he's okay with pressure, but auto-persuading seems to work, too, to a degree.

Thinking like a fighter helps – when it comes to fighting and killing, he is perfectly functional, if not downright deadly It's only in everyday life, when he has the time to think and feel, that the darkness gets back to the surface in response to tension, like insidious smoke, poisoning his thoughts and sleep.

But not now. Derek lets his eyes drift all over the house, keen and watchful. Not now, as he feels his mind fall into its soldier-like ways – noticing the number of persons in the building, who is awake, who isn't, and pinpointing his target on the second floor. The room with a window towards the side of the house.

Not bad. At least it makes for less possibilities of being seen as he climbs up gracefully to the window and knocks once, low. Nothing except snoring, and Derek rolls his eyes – from the human member of a Pack, he'd have expected better reflexes. He taps louder, and this time the teenager rises up with a start, eyes widening when he sees who's on the window frame.

The shocked expression turns quickly mistrustful, though, and Derek's lips twitch. Maybe not so naive, after all. The human steps warily towards the window and throws it open, shoulder forcibly straight. “What do you want?”. He reeks of tension, and Derek inwardly admits he's impressed. It's like the boy can see how dangerous is is beneath the polite veneer.

Derek shrugs. “For the moment, getting in before I'm spotted dangling from your window would be a good start. Avoid awkward questions and the like”. 

Stiles throws him an irritated glance, but steps aside all the same. “Fuck, you even _sound_ like him” he mutters scornfully, and Derek bites his lip on a laugh. No need to ask who is 'he', but for Derek the remark is far from the insult it was meant to be – he has high respect for Peter, and he'd be lying if he said his lover's ability of flaying people alive with words isn't part of it.

He slips in the room, silent as a ghost, quickly getting the reading on the other heartbeat in the house – still deeply asleep, so he turns to his new host, a light smile on his face, aiming for nice and nonthreatening, even as he choses to make his query in a very direct way. “So. I was wondering if your proposition of giving me a roof was still open”.

The human doesn't seem impressed in the least by his politeness, and the fire-swift answer is exactly the one he expected. “Why? You seemed very cozy with Peter earlier”. Again, the emphasis on the name is anything but fond, the boy's mouth curling in distaste. Derek carefully doesn't react to the barely-veiled disgust.

He's not here to try and argument in the older man's favor – if it had been about his Peter, he would already be hitting the human in the face. But this reality's Peter? He did what he could, and gave him an opening – if the man comes to him, then...well. He'll see. But until then, he is on a mission to get back home, and step one is: shelter.

Which means convincing the boy to let him stay – and furthermore assure him that this is no part of some Machiavellian plan, or whatever it is the Peter of this word cooks up when he's bored. Without, of course, admitting the true reasons for his departure. Derek purses his lips. Jesus, he's starting to get seriously feed-up with all the lying/tiptoeing/hiding dance.

Alright. Let's keep it as simple as possible. “My Peter is different. I was...shocked by your Peter's...say, unbalanced state. Didn't feel so good around him”. Stiles' eyes narrow, mistrust rolling off him by waves, so Derek adds, seemingly grudgingly, “A familiar scent is powerful for wolves – I just...wanted family. Safety”. He averts his eyes, like the admission somewhat embarrasses him.

And the human bites. Derek mentally rolls his eyes – wolf or not, in the end it's not so different: show weakness, loneliness, and suspicion abates. Alexander taught him that one, actually. Not all of the distrust is gone, of course. The boy is still tense, but now there is something else in his scent, something Derek can use, even if it makes him inwardly bristle. 

Pity. And behind it, curiosity.

Probably because he is much more laid-back than the version they're used too. More open, seemingly ready to share, to answer questions where he suspects his other him kept silent, if not downright snarled. It's a good thing, actually, because while he stays careful to his words, he can play on that.

“Okay. But you're not staying here. We're going to Scott's”. Ah. Not so easily fooled, then. Sending his to one of his species, Alpha to boot – someone Stiles feels is able to restrain him if necessary. Well. Why not. It's not like Derek can't get the fuck out the second he decides to lose his 'watcher'. So he simply nods sagely.

Derek jumps out first, lands nicely from the three meters drop, and turns around to watch Stiles climb down much more cautiously, his grip white on the window's frame – oh, he is visibly used to sneaking out, so it's not like it's overly awkward, but still, the image is...highly amusing. He hides a smile as the human finally drops on the ground.

Stiles mutters something not very nice-sounding that Derek doesn't bother to decipher, having turned his attention to the surrounding streets – no-one is around, which is a rather good situation for them. The less they're seen, the better. He takes a silent, deep inhalation, and instantly finds the scent of the Alpha near.

He could easily get up the trail himself, but instead lets Stiles take the lead; no need to show his tracking proficiency – and if the Pack is fool enough to forget it...well. Too bad for them, and Derek feels no need to remind them of the fact he's a highly-skilled hunter. He steps along the human, unbothered by the half-hostile silence.

Even after all these years, walking without a word is no bother – Peter and him have never been the kind to speak for nothing, and wolves have far more methods of conversation than speech. Scent or heartbeat sometimes say far more than words.

The two dark outlines disappear in the night.

***

The figure of the tall man standing on the highest hill around the town is half-hidden, barely a silhouette in the night – the moonlight glints softly on his sandy-brown hair, but the rest of his person is shrouded in the tree's moving shadows. He is looking down at the spread out town under the cliff, expression cold and pensive.

Highest vantage point of the forest. The night wind beats at him, chilly and strong, blowing its icy bite right in his face – if he wasn't what he is, he'd probably be knocked aside from the edge of the rocky outcrop.

Peter closes his eyes, taking at deep breath – the wind is cold enough that breathing it in is painful, seemingly burning in his throat and lungs. And yet... _We're lovers. I never left_ , the voice still murmurs in his head, and he recalls hazel eyes, gentle and confident and fucking getting him. Perfect understanding, and not a hint of judgment.

His teeth grind violently, jaw locked angrily. This is ludicrous. The fact that this other Derek's heartbeat stayed steady means nothing, except maybe that his counterpart win the prize where he failed: he lured Derek in, made him what he always should have been. A predator, powerful, dangerous, remorseless.

A Derek without his god-damned morals and good-conscience or guilt sapping him to a weak, pathetic fool. And well, if fucking him is the way to go...Peter is more than able to play the enthralled lover, whispering sweet nothing at his ear while fucking him into the mattress. If it could give him this terrible, perfect stranger...

An equal, match for match, blood for blood. Hatred for hatred. And god, isn't the result glorious.

The Hales as they always should have been. If it hadn't been for James and Thalia's disgusting, stupid decisions, and their senseless trust and love for humans, letting the Pack dwindle to this moral-ridden bunch of cowards and weaklings. He will never forgive them for that – in a way, they are the ones who broke Derek, far before the fire. Far before Kate Argent.

Made him human, a good little boy, righteous and educated and _civilized_. A good dog, obeying orders without blinking and coming on call, wilderness obliterated to nothing, barely able to kill or even fight and protect his own. What kind of werewolf is that? Derek, their Derek, has inspired nothing but disgust, exasperation and, sometimes, mild, vicious amusement in Peter for a long, long time.

But seeing him like this, this savage, dangerous man who looked him right in the eyes without fear or pity...He remembers the polite ways, tempered by fierce mockery and solid wits, wolf hovering close to the surface, all coiled strength. Playing harmless, handsome stranger – a wolf in sheep's clothing, indeed.

Finally, Peter's tense, closed-off face relaxes into a smile, eyes glowing an almost gentle blue in the dark. Maybe Derek, his Derek, isn't the lost cause he believed the man was – there always was darkness lurking behind his eyes. He just needs to draw it out, bit by bit. Learn the other, get close, until he can break his fake, sorry excuse for a facade.

And in the meantime...getting to know their new town guest can only help along. Which shouldn't prove too difficult – the other Derek is clever, without a doubt, and a deadly fighter. But after all, from his own admission, the younger man does love him.

Peter can certainly find enough time and resources for a little play along.


End file.
